When worlds collide
by Naesy
Summary: YAWN! Are you tired of HPDM fics that are like broken records? Are you looking to read something fresh & new? Well then join HP, DM and a madly giggling author as they skip down a STRANGELY familiar path in a new, 'fresh out of the packet' way! Parody.
1. If the formula ain't broke, don't fix it

**Disclaimer: **Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots, and situations. This is a not-for-profit work of fiction.

**Warnings: **This will not be a very enjoyable read if you haven't read many Harry/Draco fics before.

This story is 'a parody'/'mock fic'/'crack fic'. In this story, I will be poking fun at fanfiction, the whole H/D fandom, and the plethora of H/D fics out there. Slash fics, Veela fics and all other types of fics are just not safe. Nothing is sacred!

Please, avoid if you are likely to suffer from parody-associated pain and other known side effects (screaming at the computer, heavy frowning, eye-rolling, cursing at author). As if it could get any worse, it's likely to get a bit fluffy by the end too. You have been warned!

**A/N: **Chapter One was posted before the release of the seventh HP book and thus this story disregards this. HBP is also mostly disregarded but not advertised as such (for no reason other than I wanted to write this in an 'apparently' canon-compliant manner, while in actuality not complying with said HBP-canon in the slightest. Yes, this is me continuing to laugh at the world of fanficton some more.).

oooo

**When worlds collide**

**1. If the formula ain't broke, don't fix it **

Many theories were floating around Hogwarts (and the fandom) in relation to Draco Malfoy.

Some thought Draco was a Death Eater in-waiting, eager to do Voldemort's bidding. Others viewed him as a victim of circumstance and upbringing. Perhaps not evil as such. Maybe more of a spoilt brat, one with a heart of soft and squishy pink marshmallow, hidden deep inside... just waiting for some 'opportune time' to come out.

-Insert 'Opportune Time' here-

Draco was recently unearthed as a Veela and, true to the formula, this held all kinds of opportunities for hilarity to ensue - not to mention, provided all kinds of opportunities for some serious testing and re-evaluating of his character to take place (because, he was now BEAUTIFUL! And nothing makes you think, 'Perhaps he's not _that _bad' like a decent body and kick-arse pair of eyes…_ and_ some Veela twinkling).

It was year seven and the school year had just begun. The students of Hogwarts had registered Draco's recent transformation with dangerously elevated heart rates and suddenly babbling mouths, as they desperately vied for his affection. Hell's bells! Their once ugly and pointed classmate, Draco, was now nothing short of _dazzling_!

Draco was sitting with his perfectly shaped face and his perfectly dewy skin and his perfectly toned body and his perfectly soft blond hair looking out into the distance with his perfectly-perfect silver-blue eyes.

He was sitting next to his, randomly chosen best friend for the given story, Blaise Zabini who, for reasons unexplained, cannot be confidently described as a boy, girl, Italian, black, good, evil, friend or foe of Gryffindors, or other-usually-important-details by most members of this fandom. Present company included.

Draco yawned and stretched his arms above his head, unsure whether his hands would hit his Veela wings or not, but then he realised, he was only granted wings in some fics and this may well not be one of them.

As per _usual_, Draco Malfoy had come to learn of his Veela-ness in the most _unlikely_ of circumstances: when he was at an age where he was free to be sexually active. When he was surrounded by people who 'knew him when', so that they could witness his transformation and begin to look at him with eyes anew and tongues a-wagging (males and females, alike). And, of course, at a time when a certain green-eyed, black-haired wizard was still hanging around in the picture.

Naturally, the Veela awakening had come as a wild shock to Draco who had no idea that he was anything _but _a pureblood wizard. And, depending on which way you tilt your head, his parents were either: likewise, just as shocked (unaware of the Veela genes in their son), or annoyed as all Hell (should they have known all along and hoped to live in blissful denial for the rest of their lives). I'm yet to come across the third possibility: that his parents knew and were completely fine with the whole matter – happy, even. Let me know if you, on the other hand, have.

Draco sighed wearily. "Blaise? When is something _new_ going to happen? I'm so _bored_…"

Sure, he'd just become a Veela which _was _technically new (in this story). But, one might wonder if his desire for newness had more to do with this all too familiar 'spooky' feeling he was experiencing, as if he'd 'been there' and 'done that' a thousand times over.

At that point, in a very _non_-new fashion, a certain green-eyed character entered stage right.

Now, Harry Potter was not looking at all like the gangly, knee-knocking skinny kid from books one to five. Instead, he'd grown that fair bit taller, as Hermione had shared with us in book six, and was suddenly a lot easier on the eyes, as Hermione had also pointed out in book six.

And, bundled with this information and not yet having our hot little hands on book seven, we can assume (and most of us have) that Harry has conveniently gotten even _better_ looking since year six. We're talking model-worthy. Perhaps even as good as Draco Malfoy, Veela-ness and all.

Because, should this happen to turn into a Harry/Draco slash fic? It just wouldn't _do _for the two young men to be anything less than painfully hot, or for any one of them to be seriously uglier than the other.

But Harry's recently emerging good looks had not just sprung out of the blue. Occasional hanging out on a magical, self-moving bit-of-wood (i.e. a broom) and only-once-in-a-game stretching out of a few fingers to encase a gold little ball with wings in his hand had, _somehow_, awarded him with muscles _to die for_! As in well-defined, solid as a rock, gym-junkie-like muscles.

Sheesh! I should hang out on a broom myself! Stuff that gym membership...

But it wasn't just his height, shape, and broadness that had become unworldly. By year seven, he was sporting an all-over sun-kissed tan, generally purported to have come from spending all that time outside in the sun playing Quidditch (even though he was always, strangely, clothed head to toe in that Quidditch gear whenever he played the sport. Not to mention the fact that he lived in England and Scotland where, quite honestly, the sun 'just don't shine'.).

Draco looked over at Harry, a person he had hated with unyielding intensity since dot... and suddenly noticed the git's eyes, eyes that Draco had seen countless times in his life before (say, like, _every bloody school day since he was eleven_!) but had for some reason never really recognised their _greenness_ until now.

But Merlin… they were GREEN. They were _SO _GREEN. How had he never noticed HOW GREEN THEY WERE?

And then, in a moment of literary brilliance, Draco '_let out a breath he never knew he was holding'_.

"Hi," said Harry walking over to the two Slytherins whom he had never spoken to in any friendly way in his entire life until this very point in time. For some reason, Malfoy changing into a Veela coincided with all kinds of other changes in Harry too.

Draco stared at those green, green eyes eagerly. THEY WERE SO FUCKING GREEN!

"You have green eyes," Draco said curiously.

Harry paused. "I know that."

"No. They're like really green," Draco continued.

"Yeah. I know."

"No. Like really, _really_ green."

"Again. That's information I know."

Draco frowned looking at Potter and began to pull at his robes a bit to move the fabric away from his overheating body. "Is it hot in here?"

Blaise shrugged. "We're deep inside a stone castle in the Scottish highlands. Although it's still summer outside, it's quite a chilly, rainy day today. They say it might even snow."

"Right." Draco continued staring at Potter intently for a few seconds, sweat gathering across his forehead. "Potter. I have this sudden urge to ask you to speak in Parseltongue… though I'm not exactly sure why... given how I hate you and all…"

Blaise, his gender non-specific friend of indiscernible ethnicity, yawned and said, "It's probably because he's your mate."

"…My what!"

Blaise rubbed his/her eyes and then pulled into a full body stretch. "Your _mate_. You know… now that you're a Veela…"

"…Huh?"

For some reason, learning that he was not entirely human did not usually result in Draco Malfoy (a wizard who was usually quite studious and well-read) carefully researching the whole Veela-thing until quite late in the piece. Typically, he waited until after he came face-to-face with Harry Potter for the first time since becoming a Veela. And, therefore, after he felt a sudden rush of lust and possessiveness towards his once sworn enemy and found himself wondering where in bleeding Hell that reaction had come from.

Blaise bit into an apple and casually spoke through a mouthful of food. "You know, your _mate_… now that you're part animal and all."

"What!"

"Draco! Oh, for the love of--" Blaise reached into his/her bag and retrieved a small glossy information brochure that, for the pure convenience of the author, was located right there within Blaise's reach. "One day you'll learn what being a Veela means. Here, look… Dot point number three. Says that Veela 'mate for life'. And they usually find their mate just by spotting them and suddenly feeling utterly giddy. You're supposed to become completely obsessed with them. That sort of thing."

"Give me a look at that," Draco replied quickly, snatching it from Blaise's hands and finally taking a keen interest in learning what being a Veela entailed. "Oh…" Draco absorbed the information for a few seconds.

"Me? His mate!" Harry finally squeaked.

Blaise shrugged. "Well, he did just waffle on about your eyes for a bit there…"

"So?"

"Harry. He's _hated_ you for years."

"Yeah, but I've got nice eyes--"

"Yeah, you _do_. But he's _seen _your eyes for years, as well."

"Yeah… but… well, I'm _a guy_!"

Blaise shrugged. "Gender is a wishy-washy thing in this land. Take me for instance."

"Oh. Right."

"Plus, I don't think I've ever come across a hetero Veela fic…"

"Oh, oh!" Draco was now reading dot point number four. "It says here that I'm supposed to have an insatiable sex drive! Heh heh… you lucky sod, Potter!"

Harry did suddenly feel very lucky. But then, on second thoughts, he knew he should probably not feel so lucky so quickly. First he should be outraged… and then he could go right on back to feeling lucky again. "What does this all mean?" Harry Potter turned back to Blaise, fear and anger underlining his words. "What does all of this _mean_!"

"Well, it probably means you'll have to become lovers and all that. And by the sounds of it, you're probably going to be making like bunnies for the better part of a whole plot. In fact, you could pretty much consider that the plot is just some flimsy smoke screen, there just so gratuitous smut scenes can take place between the two of you."

"Oh fuck…" they both said softly, still trying to come to terms with the news. But, somehow… not _entirely _turned off by the idea. Not bad, really. Given the whole arch nemesis thing for the past six years. _And _the Kill Voldemort versus Serve Voldemort debate that normally raged between the two foes. _Plus_ the fact that a pure-blood sleeping with half-blood would be a big 'no-no' for any Mafloy.

Ten points to Slytherin and Gryffindor for embracing change and having such nicely honed adjustment skills!

"Oh yeah and Draco," Blaise continued, filling the role of helpful, informative friend (in Hermione's absence) 'to a T', "this probably means you'll have to convert to the side of light."

"Fuck – _why_!"

"Because you can't get it on with The Boy Who Lived unless you change sides."

"Shit – really? _But that wasn't on the brochure_!" Draco growled, his acceptance of Harry Potter as his mate for life and someone that he would definitely like to shag non-stop finally rising to the surface, all at once.

"Too bad. You'll have to change sides anyway," said Blaise. "Right, Harry?"

Draco wasn't the only one having a well-timed epiphany. Harry Potter was looking closely at his arch enemy, suddenly aware of how _incredible_ looking the blonde was, not to mention how gay Harry Potter was also rapidly feeling.

And, Harry also realised at that point in time… Ginny was just a silly little fling that he indulged in just to avoid his obvious gayness. It was _obvious_, really. Even JKR wouldn't dispute that. Right…? The insane jealousy he'd felt towards Dean when Dean and Ginny were together. The immeasurable joy he experienced when he'd heard Dean and Ginny had finally broken up. The snogging Ginny madly in front of his house mates in the common room without a care in the world for those around him. The hanging out with her like a blissful 'in love' couple for a while there. The painful break-up with her at the funeral. The "these past few months have been the best months of my life" or something comment he'd said to Ginny that day as he tried to not cry. Gay, _definitely_ gay.

And Harry also came to realise… Draco Malfoy may have been a prat all his life, may have lived for the downfall of Harry and his friends, may have supported Voldemort and been a Death Eater in training, etc etc – but Harry was quickly ready to put _all_ of this aside... because of something to do with being a Gryffindor and being, you know - what was it again? - brave - yeah, and honorable, and all of that. And, also, something to do with the Veela mate thing that Blaise had just spoken about. Because, Draco Malfoy, the person he hated up until three minutes ago, _couldn't help_ his overwhelming desire to just shag Harry senseless and pretty much _own_ him. It was outside of the poor guy's control! Given that he was a Veela and all.

_And_ Draco was completely shaggable.

But-mostly-it-was-the-Gryffindor-honour-and-Veela-mate-thing.

Harry nodded in agreement with Blaise about the need for Draco to reconsider his alliances. "It's true, Draco. If we're going to have some serious sex scenes, I want to make sure I can still look myself in the mirror the next day."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "Fine. So, what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I've never been a Veela's mate before. What do you suggest?"

"Well, I have an incredible desire to shag you from here to Azkaban and back. Should we start with that?"

Blaise took this moment to make him/herself scarce. Which was good really, because no more information on the Veela thing was currently required.

"Um, okay," Harry said, now feeling especially hot and clammy at Draco's suggestion.

Draco grinned, sneaking closer to Harry. And then, excitedly, he quickly worked out the mechanics of man-sex in his brain and asked Harry slyly, "So. Do you normally like to be the person who tops or bottoms?"

"Er… dunno. Whatever, really."

"Really?"

"Yeah, well, I've only just realised I'm gay."

"Ah…"

Harry shrugged. "It's amazing the effect you have on people."

Draco nodded, accepting the universal truth that Harry had just come to learn.. Veela or not, Draco had probably turned countless males gay before this.

"And besides," Harry continued, "most of these stories are written by heterosexual females with no idea of boy-sex and how the whole top and bottom thing works out in real life … current author included. So, you know, maybe we'll swap around - or find a preference, who knows?"

"You may have a point…"

"How about we just take things as they come and see what happens?"

"Alright. So. Shall we?" Draco's eyes twinkled. He held out an arm, in the hope that Harry would link his with it.

"Yes. Let's!" Harry beamed and linked arms with Draco, just as the blond had hoped.

"Hang on -_ wait_!" Draco cried out, suddenly freezing.

"What!" Harry asked quickly.

"There's not enough tension! We can't just happily shag for the first time without, you know, 'build up' – like, _will they or won't they? _That sort of thing."

"Oh, okay."

"The readers have to be sitting on the edge of their chairs, just _bursting_ for us to finally do it. And when we do, it should be like _we've never wanted anything so badly before_. And it must be the most AMAZING sex we've ever had in our lives! Even if we don't have a clue what we're doing! It has to be incredible!"

"Alright then." Harry raised an apprehensive eyebrow. "But, does this mean we don't get to shag yet?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately."

"Bugger."

"Tell me about it," Draco said glumly. "And _nice_ choice of word, Potter." He smiled up at that other wizard.

"Thank you."

"Alright, well… I guess we should let the tension building begin."

Harry sighed.

But Draco grinned devilishly. "So that soon you'll be wanting to tear my clothes off me, wishing you'd never have to walk again--"

"Fuck! Are you sure we can't, you know, get to it _now_--"

"No."

"Not even just a bit?"

"No!"

"I won't tell anyone--"

"No!"

"Because I'm definitely feeling some serious tension already and I reckon the readers are too--"

"No! Nice try though. In fact, I'm _very _impressed, Potter. But,_ I'm_ the one who is supposed to do the naughty manipulative seducing in this relationship."

"Oh? Really?" Harry grinned excitedly, like a kid-wizard in a broom shop.

"Yeah. You're supposed to be the sterner, more morally-strong one."

"Alright. What should I do?"

"How about you pretend you hate me still. Push me away a bit. And, I'll develop some cunning plan to wrap you around my finger."

"Okay. How about this? _I don't care if you're a Veela or not! You're evil and I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole, Malfoy_!"

"Good work! But, er, lay off the references to ten foot poles and that, if you don't mind. I'd rather we save that kind of talk for later,_ much_ later."

oooo

TBC in **Chapter two: What can't a song-in-a-fic do!**

A/N: In her review, Nightsummer asked me, "Does this mean you hate fics like that? or are you just making fun of it because, well, it IS ridiculously funny?"

To answer this question, I LOVE fics like that! I just wrote the story because the whole fandom and H/D stories contained within are just plain funny when you stop and think about it.

And, yes, the story was me mostly making fun of MYSELF! - because I already have or intend to include some or MOST of those usual plot twists in my stories as well!

I'd hate for people to get offended when all I wanted was to have a little giggle myself :)

So, don't let this stop you from writing what you are writing!

Be proud of the H/D fics you've created!

Because, I wouldn't know all of the above clichés if I didn't LOVE reading H/D fics - love them to the point where I've read a gazillion of them and still have no desire to stop :)


	2. What can't a song in a fic do?

A/N: Any pain you experience while reading this is not the fault of the author. Because I said so. It might be wise to keep some paracetamol on hand, though.

oooo

**2. What can't a song-in-a-fic do!**

Of course, Harry and Draco went right about completely restraining themselves and ensuring thick-as-mud tension was soon hanging in the air between them.

A door creaked open and a tall boy with dark, mussed-up hair tiptoed quietly down a shadowy staircase. He was followed closely by a blond boy with reddened lips who he was giggling softly and holding his hand.

The blond and brunet suddenly halted; both sets of eyes flew open.

"_Shit_!"

They swiftly unclasped their hands and jumped apart.

"Er, why, _Harry_…" Draco's cheeks went pink. "How did you get up here? Into the, er, Slytherin common room?"

"I've, er, no idea, Drac– I mean _Malfoy_."

Harry and Draco looked at each other with large eyes and then turned slightly away from one another. They smiled awkwardly towards the readers in the hope that they wouldn't pick up on something funny going on.

"So…" Harry scratched his head. "Erm, did I mention that I hate you?"

"Er, no, but, now that you _do_, I think it's a good time for me to mention that I hate you too." Draco grinned a little and nodded at Harry, quite pleased with his efforts on that one. Harry smiled and nodded back, sending him the message that, _yes_, he'd 'done good'.

They stood there for a moment.

"So, then… I suppose you shouldn't be down here."

Harry replied earnestly: "No! I suppose not!"

"Well then. Just... sort of... piss off, Potter!"

"Okay!" replied quite a happy little Harry Potter for so late in the evening. "Bye! See you at breakfast!"

Harry skipped off towards the Gryffindor quarters.

Meanwhile, Draco sent a sheepish smile the readers' way. "So," he cleared his throat, "enjoying the story so far…?"

But his attempt to placate the readers was soon interrupted by an ear-piercing scream.

"DRACO MALFOY! You – you BASTARD!"

Draco turned around and looked right into the eyes of one _furious_ Pansy Parkinson, clothed head to tail in her dressing gown and with dozens of rollers in her hair. And he thought the volume of her _voice_ had been frightening.

"_Errrggh_!" he yelled. Pansy did not look impressed with his reaction. _Well. When did she get so ugly!_

"I mean…" He squared his shoulders and spoke clearly and calmly: "Pansy. What seems to be the problem?"

Her eyes flashed like fire. "YOU! You seem to be the problem, Draco!"

He took a step back and gave her a thoroughly offended look. "Me! What did _I _do?"

"What did you do? What did you do?"

"Well, yes."

"Let's see." She began to angrily count the offences off on her fingers. "You've become _a Veela_! And…? You've turned _gay_! And I now hear you've gone and gotten yourself a new boyfriend! And not just any boyfriend but a _Boy Who Lived_ kind of boyfriend! Never mind that this means the possibility of you and me together now is ludicrous, but--" She paused like a train screeching to a halt. "But to top it all off?" Her eyes narrowed venomously and she spoke through her teeth. "You've done all of this… _without telling me_." She panted; her angry eyes began to water. "Me!" She stamped a foot. Draco flinched. "ME! Your - your 'supposed' best friend!"

Draco raised an eyebrow tentatively. "Actually… Pansy? I'm sorry, but… you're not my best friend."

She blinked rapidly. "Beg pardon?"

Draco drew his eyebrows together in apology. "We drew straws before the story began."

"You, you – _what_?"

"I'm sorry. It was Blaise's turn this time. There was nothing I could do."

"Blaise!" He shrugged. She frowned and exhaled heavily. "But – but Blaise is barely _in_ the bleeding books!"

"I know," he agreed. "But he's a major player in fanfics."

"What? _Fanfics_...?" She snorted. "Since when do _they_ matter?"

"Well, you're, er, in one now. So, you know, a little respect… if you please."

"Oh. Right." She then shook her head in a sudden fluster. "Well – well can't you have _another _best friend in a story too!"

"Er,_ no_. I mean, I can and sometimes I do. But, honestly, Pans? Any more than one and it gets quite hard for the author to keep track of all the characters and their motivations, to ensure the best friends play more than trivial roles. And just quietly," he began to whisper, "I'm not so certain the current author is really up to the job."

She scowled and then sniffed haughtily. "Well – what about Crabbe and Goyle? Are _they_ still your best friends too?"

"Well, yes, of course. But they never say anything. So that kind of helps."

It was at that point that both Pansy and Draco realised that Crabbe and Goyle were not only standing either side of Draco but had been doing so for the entire scene.

"Eeeep!" said Pansy, as both she and Draco jumped three feet backwards in sudden alarm.

"Fucking_ Hell_!" Draco exclaimed. "See what I mean?" he gasped, bent over, hands clasped onto his knees, rapidly trying to catch his breath. "It's like they're not even _there_!"

Pansy was still clutching her chest from the shock, but that didn't stop her from whisking her head towards Draco and resuming her angry scowl. "Well, what's the point of having characters that do _nothing_? Hm, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know," he breathed. "Perhaps it's like…'rent-a-crowd' or something. So I don't seem like a social outcast."

"Well, I think that's _stupid_. They don't really add _anything_ to the story!"

"Yeah, I know."

"When _I_ could add quite a lot..."

"Hm, yeah, _perhaps_--"

"Oh come _on_! I'm _far_ more interesting than those two idiots…"

The pair wandered off towards their sleeping quarters, bickering loudly, and leaving behind Crabbe and Goyle, that is a silent Crabbe and a misty-eyed Goyle.

Their muffled sniffs went unheard by the world around them.

oooo

_The next morning:_

Draco was making his way eagerly towards the Great Hall, excited to meet up with his new boyfriend, when a hand reached out and grabbed him, yanking him into a darkened alcove.

"What the?"

He looked up into the nondescript face of another Hogwarts boy. An older looking one. In fact, one who probably shouldn't even _be_ at school anymore given how this was Draco's seventh year and Draco was certain this one was supposed to be older than him by at least _a whole yea_-

"Hi. I'm Eddie Carmichael and I'll be your jealous, ex-boyfriend attacker for this story." He gave Draco a warm nod.

Draco's jaw descended. "What-the-fuck?" he exclaimed. "Ex-_boyfriend_…?" Draco restated. "We_ never_ went out!"

"Oh?" Eddie looked at him in genuine surprise and then padded down his own robes, eventually slipping a hand inside and retrieving some sort of book. He began to flick through the pages, running his eyes over the text in a hurried fashion. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Draco replied furiously. "Besides, I've only just realised _I'm gay_, you git!" He crossed his arms angrily and looked away.

Carmichael's brow furrowed slightly. "Well, don't blame _me_. I'm just doing what the script says… and let's see here…" He scanned an open page quickly. "Yep, says I'm to corner you while you're on your own… Okay, good, that's what I've just done… And, then it says here that you are powerless to stop me…" He raised a hand absently and grabbed a hold of Draco's robes in one loose fist, while still reading. "I suppose I do something like _this_, because I'm to go on and rough you up quite a bit--"

"_What_!" Draco batted the hand away roughly and began to reach for his wand.

Eddie's eyes squinted at the page. "Wait, hang on a minute..." He rubbed his chin and read further ahead, not noticing Draco's angry reaction _or_ Draco's quick retrieval of his wand. "Looks like Harry Potter's supposed to rescue you… Although, I don't know where _he _is." Eddie looked over his right and left shoulder. "Huh. Perhaps he didn't get the latest script- _Hey_!" he suddenly said as a wooden tip was pressed to his heart. "You're not supposed to have your wand!"

"Oh,_ really_?" Draco drawled sarcastically.

"Yeah. I think you're supposed to forget it - or something…"

Draco recoiled. "Hold on just a minute! I'm Draco _Malfoy_!"

"Yeah, I know."

"You _git_. That means I _never forget my wand_! Ever! I'm a pureblood wizard. I can't tie a shoelace without it, for Merlin's sake!"

Eddie's brows lifted. "Oh..."

"Your script makes no sense."

"Well. Maybe - maybe they _did _get it wrong. It's highly likely. I mean, this must be the tenth draft I've gotten this week alone. All unbeta'd, mind you, _heh heh_. You should have _seen _some of the earlier errors!"

Draco groaned.

"Okay. Look," Carmichael said in a pleasant, problem-solving tone. "Let's just presume you're supposed to have it then and work the scene with the wand as best as we can. Alright?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "_Fine_. But if I have my wand, why on earth would I _not_ hex the shit out of you?"

"Oh. I dunno. I suppose it's not convenient to the plot."

"Carmichael?"

"Yup?"

"Get the fuck out of here before I _do_ hex you, because right now - in my view - it's _very_ convenient to the plot."

"Oh? Well. It's not quite how I'd imagined the scene would go, but I suppose it'll do." He titled his head to the side thoughtfully. "In fact, I _like _this improvisation. You standing on your own two feet, not requiring the Chosen One to leap to your aid. Yeah." He smiled. "I think we did well." He clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder in a friendly manner. "See you 'round." And at that, Eddie spun on the spot and began to walk away, whistling merrily to himself.

"Who was _that_?" said Harry appearing out of nowhere a split second later.

"Some guy called Eddie Carmichael. Ever heard of him?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"What's he got to do with anything?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing."

"Oh. Good."

They paused and fell into a moment of silence. Draco felt his Veela urges suddenly whirl through his body. He was in delicious proximity to his mate and found he was just _hungry _for some contact.

Draco suddenly flicked his hair out of his eyes and glanced up at Harry beneath long lashes. Harry did a double take; his mouth fell open and he became a ball of nervous energy. He stepped eagerly but anxiously towards Draco, reaching two keen hands out to touch him.

It was at that point that both Harry and Draco realised that Crabbe and Goyle were not only standing either side of Draco but had been doing so for the entire scene, ever since Harry had arrived.

"_Arggh_!"

"SHIT!"

The couple leapt into the air in fright.

Harry was the colour of a beetroot and Draco was sincerely hoping he did not inherit his grandfather's weak heart. He pressed a hand over the galloping organ and took a moment to catch his breath. "Goyle? Crabbe?" he finally muttered. "It's not that I don't _appreciate _your loyalty… and you both… sort of 'guarding' me, albeit _ineptly_. But I think that perhaps it would be better if you both… _didn't_... always follow me around." Goyle swallowed. His eyes began to water. Crabbe looked quietly at his feet. "Hey. I don't mean to hurt you. I mean, you're still my friends and all. It's just… maybe you should get involved in something else a little more. Perhaps even talk. Out loud. With humans. From time to time. Er- _not_ with _me_, of course--" He held his palms up in the air to stop that idea from going any further. "_Never_ with me, because I've already got a best friend _and_ a boyfriend, so… that means I'm sort of 'covered' in that respect. Just… sort of… talk to _each other_ maybe. Just for starters. And see how it goes. How does that sound? Good? Good." He nodded in a brisk but pleased manner, and then turned and dragged Harry away by the hand.

Goyle let out a shaky breath and Crabbe placed a supportive hand on Goyle's shoulder.

oooo

Harry was not exactly reluctant to leave Crabbe and Goyle back in the hallway but he was most certainly reluctant to leave Draco now outside the doors to the Great Hall. Particularly given his apparent traumatic experience of just moments earlier with Eddie Carmichael (he'd seen a bit of it from a distance as he'd hurriedly approached) and how people in the real world normally take _years_ and _years _to recover from an attack like that. The kind of attack that might stop all sorts of physical affection from taking place between the two, at least until after much therapy. Harry frowned.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" he asked Draco.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you just got accosted. By Eddie."

"Huh?"

"Eddie – Eddie Carmichael."

"Who?"

"Eddie Carmichael. That guy back there. The one who had you cornered and was grabbing you by the robes, threatening you."

Draco drew his brows together in concentration. "Really…? Just _then_?" Harry nodded solemnly.

Draco finally shrugged. "I think I've forgotten it already."

"Seriously?" Harry's brows arched.

Draco nodded calmly. "Yeah. Doesn't even sound remotely familiar."

"Huh. So this means you'd be okay with physical affection?"

Draco smirked slowly. "Absolutely."

They fell, once more, into a comfortable silence.

"Wanna snog?"

"Sure."

They leapt towards each other.

oooo

Some heated sixty minutes later, Harry and Draco pulled apart, their hearts still racing.

Harry drew Draco in towards his chest and held him tightly, wrapping him up in his welcoming arms.

They were standing in front of the doors to the Great Hall at breakfast time, and as much as Harry appreciated an hour-long snog with Draco, he wasn't so certain that they could pull off such a kissing stunt for any longer, a kissing stunt in such a public place while they attempted to keep the whole school in the dark about their new relationship. In fact, it was strange that they'd managed to do just that for sixty minutes just now! At breakfast time, too! A time when students should have technically been pouring madly in through these doors. It was almost as if some strange force, some higher power or being, was controlling all the events in his life and - _heh, heh_ - actually _wanted_ he and Draco to snog! To snog _a lot_! So much so that they were able to do it whenever and wherever they liked, _in long drawn-out detail_, with no interruptions whatsoever! Even in places that were supposedly public! But who would _want _the two of them to _do _such a thing!

_Wait_. Probably the same sorts of people who would want Draco to recover quickly from an assault... so that he could get back to snogging - and _more _- as soon as possible...

That's when Harry remembered he was part of a story and that an author and some readers were watching his every move with Draco. Harry shook his head in sudden understanding; _Perverts_. The author and readers were all a bunch of perverts.

But Harry didn't get to contemplate these 'wild' and _completely uncalled for_ musings any further as Draco shifted in his arms a little, dragging Harry's attention away from his thoughts.

"Harry?" Draco asked against his chest. "Do you think - I mean, are you going to--" Draco stopped and remained quiet for a moment. Harry squeezed him a little, encouraging him to continue. "Will you tell your friends about me?" Draco finally whispered.

Harry's heart clenched painfully in his chest. Harry licked his lips and nodded anxiously. "Yeah. I thought I might tell them this morning actually."

Draco tilted his head back and looked up at the other wizard. "Do you think they'll ever accept me?"

Harry's breath snagged somewhere in his throat. The other boy was so _beautiful_. Harry's eyes had never rested on a more amazing sight. Even so, he hated to see Draco desperately worried like this. "Of course they will," he quickly said.

"Really?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Yes." He smiled at Draco and slipped a loose strand of blond hair behind Draco's ear, but he felt bad for saying it. The truth was... Harry was nervous, very nervous about his friends' reactions. "At least, I hope so," he stated honestly, glad he was unable to lie. He wanted to be like an open book to this young man; he wanted Draco to know him through and through. "But don't worry. If need be, I'll work on them until they do." Draco continued to look at him with a troubled expression and Harry moved to change the topic quickly. "_Anyway_. Aren't we supposed to be building tension or something?" He smirked.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Draco smiled slowly. "I keep forgetting all about that."

Harry chuckled. "Me too."

They stood there, in each other's arms, holding on for long minutes. They didn't want this moment to end. But it had to.

Harry spoke quietly: "We should go inside."

"Should we walk in separately?"

"Yeah."

Draco nodded silently.

"At least for now," Harry added.

Draco gave him a tiny, thankful smile.

Reluctantly, they released their hands.

oooo

Several minutes later, Draco stalked into the hall, sank down next to Blaise, and released a loud huff.

_Wait just a minute…_

"Blaise?" Draco turned his head. "Is that – is that _you_?"

The person beside him grinned widely. "Yes, it is!"

"But – but you're a guy!" Draco's eyes travelled quickly over the other boy. "And you've got dark skin!"

"I know!"

Draco drew back, raised his brows, and then shrugged. "Huh. Well, how about that, then, eh...?" Draco remarked absently as he turned away and reached for a glass of pumpkin juice.

"And…?" Blaise prompted eagerly.

Draco took a long sip of his drink and wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand. "And _what_?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "And I'm _gorgeous_, that's what!" He smiled winningly at his friend.

But Draco was too interested in perusing the breakfast choices on the table to notice.

Blaise frowned, raised a hand, and clicked his fingers in the air so that several girls around him sighed dreamily on cue. In the event that the readers needed extra proof of his good-looks? That should do it nicely. He nodded his appreciation to them all and they swooned some more for the extra added effect.

But it barely worked where Draco was concerned. Draco elevated his eyes briefly and flicked them vacantly over Blaise. "Oh, right," he commented without enthusiasm on his friend's looks. "Good for you, Blaise."

Blaise sighed wearily.

"So how'd this all come about then?" Draco asked in a distracted tone, his mind elsewhere.

"Well. The lazy author got off her arse and decided to look into who I'm actually supposed to be. Turns out JKR confirmed my maleness, my skin colour, _and_ my good looks _ages_ ago." He leaned towards Draco. "My sexual persuasion, however, is still up for grabs though…"

He allowed a hand to drift slowly and meaningfully along Draco's arm. Draco slapped it fiercely, his eyes narrowing into angry slits. "Hey! Get your stupid paw off me, Blaise!"

Blaise blanched. "You're – you're not _attracted _to me?"

Draco flinched backwards and gawked at Blaise like he was mad. "No! Of course not!"

"Oh…"

"Oh don't be so cut up about it. I'm a _Veela_! And I've already found my mate. Remember…? _You_ were the one who told me!"

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry." Blaise rubbed his forehead and looked extremely tired. "It's just been hard to get my head around this, Draco, these - these _unnecessary _good-looks. They've really _thrown _me. I mean... Merlin... why would I _have _them if they weren't really essential to the story!"

Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise was supposed to be his clear, non-confused best friend. Not this mess of a man. "Honestly, give a guy a gender and some distinguishing characteristics and his personality changes completely." He paused and glanced back at Blaise who was looking at Draco gravely. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, it's okay." Blaise smiled weakly. "Now that I think about it, it's actually a big relief to know you don't like me like that. The truth is…" He prodded his toast and laughed nervously. "There's actually someone else I've got my eye on and I was quite worried that I'd have to forgo that possibility, in favour of some awful love-triangle with you and Potter due to my impeccable good looks."

"Oh?" Draco sighed and dropped a half eaten piece of toast back onto his plate, unable to stomach food right now. "Who?" he asked, attempting to be a supportive friend. He wasn't really _that _interested, as his own life was of greater concern. But right now? Not much was going on in his own story besides uneaten toast. So. It filled a gap.

Blaise looked up shyly. "Eddie Carmichael." He sighed heavily. "I've been in love with him for years."

Draco sat back and crossed his arms fastidiously across his chest. "First of all, you're _gay_?"

"Probably not according to JKR, but, yes," Blaised nodded, "now and then."

"Right. Second of all, Eddie Carmichael?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"Never heard of him."

"Oh." Blaise dropped his gaze and began to toy with his food once more.

Draco frowned and decided to go out on a limb for his friend for the second time today. After all, this lull period in his own story was stretching on much longer than he'd first anticipated. "I'm sure he's wonderful though, Blaise. And I'm sure he'll have you." Blaise sat upright and smiled brightly at that. "Now. Can you go back to being my supportive, informative friend and stop the bloody sulking?"

Blaise shrugged. "Sure. I can try."

"Good. Please do. You never know when I might need information and someone like you to save the day."

"Actually, Draco? You could always read up on things yourself--"

"Like I said," Draco interrupted and spoke firmly, "you never know when I'll need you to come to my rescue with information I desperately need and save the day."

Blaise nodded after a moment of delay. And finally satisfied that the focus was back on Draco, Draco drooped sullenly in his chair and rubbed his temples with a loud, bone-weary moan to ensure his distress was clearly known.

"Draco? Draco, what's_ wrong_?" Blaise asked, taking note.

Draco looked up. "Harry's going to tell his friends about the two of us… any minute now..."

oooo

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, across from Hermione and Ron.

His hands were sweaty and he didn't have a clue where to start. Harry gulped and sought out some inspiration.

He looked out across the Great Hall. Grey eyes lifted and met green.

Harry looked at Draco. Draco looked at Harry.

Harry kept looking at Draco. Draco kept looking at Harry.

Harry looked briefly away – he looked at his toast for a few moments - before he went right back to looking at Draco again.

Draco returned the gaze: grey eyes again meeting green, green eyes again fixing on grey.

Green eyes kept looking at grey, grey eyes kept focusing on green.

The 'green eye-grey eye gazing thing' continued for some time.

And, really. It was a good thing the author was able to capture these moments so eloquently.

oooo

"Ron, Hermione? I need to tell you something." Harry sucked in a deep breath and paused before beginning. "I'm gay… and… I'm in love… with Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Hermione glanced up from their respective breakfasts and newspapers. "Huh? Oh right, Harry," said Hermione before returning to the task of reading.

"Cool," Ron commented absently. He took another bite of his toast and inspected the sports section of the _Daily Prophet_.

Harry looked at them both in alarm.

Harry sat for at least a minute watching his friends, listening to Ron _chomp, chomp_ on his toast, the same look of alarm not leaving Harry's face for even a moment.

"Guys? I said… I'm GAY! And IN LOVE… with MALFOY!"

Hermione allowed a corner of her newspaper to fold over and peered over the top of it with one curious brown eye. "Er, right, Harry. We heard you."

Ron swallowed his mouthful. "Yeah, Harry. Good stuff." He took a sip of pumpkin juice and turned to the next page of his newspaper.

Harry frowned. "But – but aren't you madly upset? Livid!"

Hermione let her paper rest on the table and titled her head. "Harry." She sighed. "There's nothing wrong with homosexuality…"

"Yeah, Harry. She's right. Each to their own, Harry. Each to their own."

"Absolutely. You've got to live and let live."

"What's one man's trash is another man's treasure," Ron added.

"A rolling stone, Harry." She nodded. "It gathers no moss…"

"And a bird in the hand--"

"Fucking – stop hitting me with proverbs! Let alone proverbs that _barely relate to the given situation_!"

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Besides! In case you haven't got it, when it comes to acceptance of all things _homosexual_, you're preaching to the_ converted_ – LITERALLY, you idiots!"

"Right."

"Sorry, Harry."

"Anyway, Ron. Aren't you going to blush profusely and stutter - and look all embarrassed about the thought of me and another guy, you know, being naked together and getting busy with it?"

Ron looked at Harry like he was from another planet. "Harry. Why on earth would I do _that_?"

Harry stared at him for a long second. "No reason."

Ron shrugged.

Harry sat back on the bench seat and frowned. "So. I guess this means you're both okay with the Malfoy part of the situation too then, right?"

"Sure."

"Sure."

Harry frowned. "You know… he's not evil any more. I converted him."

"Oh good."

"That's nice, Harry."

oooo

Draco left the Great Hall early, unable to stand the tension as he waited for Harry's best friends to pretty much _deliver his future on a platter_.

He scowled. _Ha! _More like deliver to him his 'marching orders'…

He couldn't help but think that Harry's best friends – the most important people in the world to Harry – would destroy Draco's new found joy in an instant. And all because of Granger's oversensitivity to the term 'Mudblood' and Weasley's oversensitivity to relentless psychological torture. It was _madness_!

He swallowed angrily and marched down a long corridor, feeling unfairly treated to the extreme.

Besides, he was a Veela, a Veela! And he wanted his mate! No… he _needed_ his mate. And Granger and Weasley had to allow it. They just _had _to.

A Veela couldn't _survive _without their mate. Well, he hadn't actually read beyond dot point number four but he imagined it to be so. It certainly _felt _like he'd die if Harry wasn't his.

Draco came to a sudden stop.

The same was not true for Harry. Harry didn't have to be his mate for life. Harry could choose to be with _whomever he wanted_.

He didn't – he didn't _have_ to be with Draco.

Draco's legs suddenly faltered beneath him. In an effort to save himself from collapsing, he quickly reached out a hand and fumbled for the windowsill beside him. Grasping it as tightly as he could, he managed to right himself and remain on his feet.

But as he stood there, leaning awkwardly towards the wall, legs half-buckled beneath him, hands braced against the window frame, he couldn't help but wonder: what if Harry didn't feel the same way about him?

oooo

Goyle and Crabbe were walking amiably along an empty corridor after breakfast.

"No, no," Crabbe muttered under his breath, "you see it was Blaise's prior ambiguity that led to the readers' affections for him. They were able to imprint their own views, their own wishes onto his poorly developed character… In many ways, he functioned as a blank slate…"

"You mean, as in some sort of 'transferential' object?" Goyle inquired.

"Yes, I suppose so. I mean take the reader's subconscious needs and then consider those needs while reading a story. As they immerse themselves into this tale, this fantasy, certain desires attempt to surface… I believe that the lack of definition around that somewhat central character facilitated expression of those desires and needs. And now that his character, his make-up, is more crystallised, he's just not as enjoyable or enticing, is he?"

"Well, I mean, he certainly seems endearingly vulnerable right now, but I take your point - there _was _something dynamic about Blaise before. As to your theory regarding why this was the case? Well... your ideas _are _stirring, but I'm not so certain that a Freudian perspective is the most germane way of viewing--"

A loud, irritated voice interrupted them. "What are _you_ two doing?" Draco's voice bellowed out as he stalked down the corridor towards them, wearing an extremely cranky frown.

Goyle grunted loudly in reply, while Crabbe muttered, "_Nuffin'_."

Draco nodded his approval and continued on his way, robes rippling behind him as he passed them by and disappeared further down the hallway.

Crabbe swung his head towards Goyle. "How can you say that Freud's theories are not applicable here?"

"Well, for starters, although most contemporary theorists hail his work as historically influential, few consider his theories as timeless. I mean, they were positioned within a highly repressive, Victorian context, and given this, some say they are not exactly cogent in today's world. I mean, take his thoughts on human psychosexual development; now _they_ are obviously outdated--"

"No, no, no. I _must_ disagree…"

oooo

Draco stood in the Astronomy Tower, looking out at the world beyond.

He was glad that Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be talking to one another now, though he imagined their conversations left a lot to be desired, the baboons that they were.

He was also glad that Blaise was in love, no longer hitting on him, and 'sort of' back to normal.

But nothing could expel the heaviness Draco was now feeling in his heart.

Anxious, dread-filled thoughts were swirling around in his mind. Everything he wanted felt like it could slip away, right through his fingers, and he'd be powerless to stop it.

But he knew this wasn't all about Granger and Weasley.

He swallowed painfully.

No. This was also about Harry.

oooo

TBC in **Chapter 3: How do you solve a problem like Ginevra?**

A/N: Yes, I didn't include a song in this chapter even though it was titled, "What can't a song-in-a-fic do!" This was mostly because, after much playing about, I just wasn't able to do it skilfully enough (i.e. without causing my own head to ache), and partly because I think the title speaks for itself, don't you? No need to harp on about it, right? Plus I, er, may have giggled delightfully at the thought of a chapter title that related in no way to the chapter itself!

Also, all inconsistencies and utterly silly sections were completely intentional.

Yes, take a paracetamol. Seriously. I can feel your headache from here!


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